All of Me

by Emily Duvall

  It takes me some time and a beer to put myself back together. If not for Maren, I would stay home and drink all night. But she’s waiting for me and I can’t cancel on her. There’s nothing left for me to cry over at my house and I head to her apartment.

  Another tenant buzzes me up and I’m at her door for the second time today.

  She answers the door and I notice everything about her all at once. Oh shit. She’s in tight-fitting shirt that accentuates every curve of her figure and stretch pants that do equal damage. Her eyes are the deep color of green that is warm and like a drug I want to get another hit from.

  “You look…” So damn beautiful. “Good. Except, your shirt is ah…”

  “What’s wrong with my shirt?”

  “You’re falling out of your top.”

  Her gaze sweeps over her chest. She tugs at the hem and inadvertently causes her breasts to jiggle. “Fits fine.”

  “I’m not going to argue, it’s just that your ladies are popping out.”

  She marches past me and into her bedroom where she flings the closet door open. There is a big selection and I push the hangers apart until I find a shirt that’s long enough to cover her butt. I push my option in her direction. “What about this one?”

  She doesn’t immediately accept the choice. “Libby picks out my clothes too.”

  I’m floored. It hits me. Libby selects her clothes. The meals in the refrigerator. Maren has no independence, not really, and just kill me now because I want that for her. I see that clearly now. That’s about to change. I won’t make this easy for her. I pull the shirt back and out of her reach. “Let me clarify. I love the shirt you’re wearing.”

  “Then why did you suggest I wear something else?”

  “Everyone will be looking at your boobs, myself included. They look amazing in that shirt.”

  With a teasing smile, she pushes them up until her nipples are almost popping out.

  I groan inwardly. All I want to do is strip the shirt off her and stroke my tongue over those hard nipples. Warmth surges through me. I laugh from the heart. “Don’t do that again.”

  Frowning, she points to the option in my hand. “I don’t want strange men staring at my breasts. I’ll put another shirt on.”

  Her undried hair shows the promise of curls—something new and intriguing. “Your hair isn’t straight today.”

  “I use a straightener for work to look more professional.”

  She starts to take off her shirt and I shoot out my hand. “Privacy, Maren. Wait until I’m out of the room.” But really, I just want to sit here and watch and put my hands all over her.

  “Oh yeah. I forgot.” She retreats to the bathroom, closes and locks the door. “I’m not straightening my hair today,” she announces as she’s switching shirts.

  “Good for you,” I mumble under my breath and resist the urge to fix anything else.

  She emerges from the bathroom and my breath catches in my throat. Maren looks incredible in the pale green shirt. I think of her breasts filling out the other top and I can’t help myself but imagine how the rest of her looks. “Are you ready?”

  “I am. Let’s go.”

  We ride the elevator to the main level and take the sidewalk to downtown. In less than fifteen minutes we’re caught in the maze of people and vendors taking in the good weather and eating the food. There isn’t much room to walk and Maren and I keep bumping into each other’s sides. Only once do I take her hand when I spot an opening in the crowd until we’re at an area with more standing room.

  My gaze shifts, and I lock eyes with someone else. I drop Maren’s hand at the sight of Sara wearing a sexy sundress with a deep V and no bra.

  “Caleb, hi,” she greets us, walking over and places a kiss on my cheek.

  My face is stone. “Sara.”

  She turns to Maren. “What…are you guys doing here?”

  I cringe.

  “You can hang out with us if you want to,” Maren says with striking clarity, “but you aren’t together anymore, so I’m not sure why you would want to?”

  Double cringe.

  Sara’s receptive gaze jolts back to mine. “No, we’re not. Caleb and I broke up, but thanks for rubbing that in my face.”

  “I’m not rubbing anything in your face.” Maren takes a step back and lifts her arms. “I’ve got nothing in my hands.”

  “Yeah, I got that part.” She holds up her bandaged hand and turns to me.

  Maren touches my arm. “Are we going to keep moving?”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry to ruin your day,” Sara interrupts.

  “Sara,” I quip. “Stop.”

  Sara’s face turns towards mine and her eyes are two slits of tempered wrath. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

  Maren shakes her head and does an eye roll. “I get it.”

  “No, stay.” My words fade with Maren turning her back on us and disappearing in the crowd.

  Sara takes my arm and I pull away. “Let’s walk and talk.”

  “Chill, Caleb. I know we’re not getting back together, but there are things we still need to say to each other.”

  We walk in the direction I think Maren has gone, and a band is playing music from the small stage nearby. Smoke rises from grills and people swarm the booths to buy tickets for the games. Cornhole competitions are underway and dance groups in town are showcasing their routines on another stage.

  Sara doesn’t have a destination in mind and my patience wears thin. She checks out jewelry at one of the vendors while I keep looking for Maren. I have to make this right.

  “What do you think of these?” Sara holds up two silver earrings.

  “I think I’ll give you two minutes to say what you want. Then? I go.”

  Exasperated, and sighing, she sets down the earrings. “I don’t like how we left things at my place. I thought we meant more to each other than a quick good-bye. You blindsided me. I wasn’t prepared. I know how you took my news that I had applied for the promotion too. I think you’re blowing the situation out of proportion. If there’s anything you need to tell me, I’m here.”

  “I thought I already told you everything I needed to say.”

  “You did, but, like I said, you haven’t been you lately. Don’t try to tell me this is about the Pierce case, because I won’t believe you. I just want you to know that whatever you are going through, I want to go through it with you. Don’t run away from me, Caleb Allan.”

  The use of both my names on her lips sounds forced. I prefer the way Maren says my name, like it’s the only way anyone should say it. “I’m not running.”

  “Okay,” she says, frustrated. “When did you start to feel different about me? Because I love you and I know there’s more to work out between us.”

  My expression is honest, and my tone is firm. “I never said that I loved you.”

  “Caleb, come on. This isn’t about saying I love you. You need something, I just don’t know what. Do you want space? Time? Fine. I’m on board. Let’s book a vacation. Let’s get away.”

  “That’s not what I want.”

  Sara pulls at my hand. “Come dance with me. I’ll let you get back to your friend after one song.”

  “No.”

  Sara’s hand grabs mine and she pulls me into a slow dance. Other couples are doing the same. Sara whispers my reward for later if I go with her. The promise doesn’t persuade me. Not even close to the kiss with Maren, but we do work in the same office and we’re both assigned to the Pierce case. This needs to stay friendly.

  I should play nice.

  I also want to be reminded of normal. Is that a bad thing? What is normal anyway? My life, up until now, has followed every path laid in front of me with shocking precision. Except for Darcy’s death and all that sunshine sucked away in her small casket, I’ve done everything I’ve set out to do. Graduate high school, go to college, get hired from a law firm with a one-percent chance at getting hired. I own my home. I can have anything. Be anything. Then why does it never
feel like enough?

  Sara’s mouth is all over my lips and the dull sensation of her tongue coils around mine. It takes this kiss for me to snap back to reality. I don’t want Sara touching me, kissing or otherwise. My heart is in the jogging trails with Maren. Those mornings are my favorite part of the week. I’m tired of everything, of my life. My wanting Libby’s job wasn’t about being bored with a career. It’s about the rope of apathy and predictability I’ve created for myself. I am a white male. I am in my mid-thirties. I’m a stereotype. I’ve been seeing Maren all wrong. She gets to be different. Gets to live by her own rules, even if she doesn’t see it that way. The thought crashes around me and shatters around my soul. I am envious of Maren Cole.

  I break away from Sara. “I have to go.”

  “Maren will understand if you leave,” Sara says, draping her hands around my neck.

  This afternoon was supposed to be about Maren. About her first day living on her own. I’ve made it about me. I unlink my hands from hers. “I have to find Maren.”

  “You weren’t thinking about her five seconds ago.”

  “You’re right,” I say, not elaborating how I zoned out during the kiss. “Good-bye, Sara.”

  The glitch about being jealous is that my mind becomes like some prehistoric caveman looking out for his property. I don’t mean to sound like a douche. I don’t want to own her, but I do want to keep her safe. The vendors lining the street have packed crowds outside their windows. To get through each one and check the festival is like going through a kaleidoscope except with screaming kids and adults giving each other dirty looks. Clearly, I’ve hit the section with games and rides.

  My feet get heavy. I stop altogether. I have successfully avoided this section for years. The gates of the past are open, and I must enter. The last time I was here Darcy was with me. She was smiling and begging me to go on the carousel. The one set up today looks eerily similar with the washed-out colors and scratched jewels on the horses’ saddles. I watch for a moment, searching for Maren, and I’m struck by a blow from my demons. I see Darcy riding on the horse, turning half around and waving. Her lips are set in a big smile with her missing front teeth. I can’t breathe clearly with this memory thundering around me. I ache for her to be here—to hear her voice one more time. A cough to stifle the emotion rising in my throat and I turn at the sound of happy screams.

  My heart is resuscitated in a flash, by life, by the reminder that I am here, and I have to live. My eyes click up to the Drop Tower and to the woman getting strapped into her seat. “Maren,” I say, running towards the ride and break through the line like an inconsiderate prick. A man steps in my way, telling me I need a ticket and I point up. “I need to speak with her.”

  “Yeah? Well, get in line.”

  Chapter 11

  Maren

  The pull of the drop tower moves me up towards the sky. Caleb shrinks the higher we go. I’m not nearly as excited to see him as I had been earlier. I thought we were here together today. Not as boyfriend-girlfriend, but as friends. Friends don’t leave you in the middle of the town to go off with someone else. Friends don’t say they aren’t in love with someone and then kiss that very woman. I saw him kiss Sara and the only thing I wanted to do was get away. I know what being not included means. I am wheel number three.

  The machine clicks into place up top. We’re high enough to see the top of the city, which is all treetops and roofs. A nervous rush moves through my stomach and I give a scream at the air horn signaling the drop. Three…two…one. Sheer terror for a second as we plummet to the ground and stop abruptly midway. We go again with half the amount of fear and by the time the ride is done, I want to go again.

  “Maren,” Caleb says, meeting me at the exit point. “You didn’t have to leave us. I was going to ask her to go.”

  “You didn’t though.”

  “We were just talking.”

  The drop tower makes a series of ominous clicks and he shudders.

  My muscles start to tick and my hands clench. My body reacts in little movements that will become bigger. ‘Weird people behavior,’ as I’ve come to know the official label. My arms swing. I straighten them hard against my sides. “You kissed her.”

  His lips press together making a thin line. “I did, yes, but that doesn’t mean you know everything. You left.”

  “So?” I step towards him. My arm shoots out as I move to mask the physical anxiety rising in my chest. “I don’t need you following me around like some babysitter and I don’t need to hang around with her.”

  “You think I’m your babysitter? You cannot be serious.” His hands fall to his hips and he shakes his head. “I invited you because I like you.”

  My arms drop to my sides. The beat in my heart tempers and my breathing evens. I pause long enough to see the people moving around us. Someone bumps my backside and inadvertently thrusts me closer to Caleb. The background noise shoots up from speakers with the volume too loud. The chaos mixes together and overloads my senses. I fight the urge to raise my hands to my ears and block out each last distraction. People are watching us—me, making everything worse. I give in and cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut.

  Heart. Beat. Heart. Beat. Heart. Beat. If only the muscle in my chest would stop stomping. If only my blood would turn a deep, true blue—the symbolic color of Autism, I could open my eyes and stand here without the need to silence the chaos.

  “Maren,” Caleb says.

  His voice is muted thanks to my palms pressing against my ears. Still, I hear his voice. My fingers slide away from the sides of my face. My eyes blink open and I see he’s holding out his hand.

  “Take my hand.”

  I do. I let him lead me away from the rides. My shoulders droop. His voice is loud against the sounds and I focus on the sound of his words, like a vessel going through smooth waters. His eyes are strong and clear. There’s him. There’s me. And everyone else around us.

  We stop walking near the end of the ride section. His hand drops to his hips. He never takes his eyes off me. “What do you need from me?”

  “I just need a quiet place.”

  Caleb snatches a fistful of my shirt and pulls me against him, folding his arms around me. Such warmth and heat. My face is buried against his chest. Longing and need shoot through me, hitting every square inch of my body like a wave I didn’t see coming. One big breath is all it takes to understand how much I ache to be touched. No one does this with me. Holds me, soothes me, runs their hand over my lower back and lets me hold them. My hand drifts tentatively to his back. I return the gesture. “Did you say you like me?”

  “Yeah, I did. I do. I’m sorry today has been weird,” he mumbles, breaking away. “I used to come to the festival with someone.”

  “With person number 10-15?” I slide my hand up his arm and trace my finger over the digits.

  “Yeah.” His chin raises ever so slightly; his gaze is direct. “Are you hungry?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  I want to know more than ever, but Caleb’s acting funny. I want my apartment and my solitude. I would run across the park to get there faster, if not for the line of food trucks and delicious smell of grease.

  He motions to the food truck with the cartoon burger and fries. Caleb pays for our food and I let him. People are scattered everywhere around the park, either sitting on picnic blankets or shoving food in their mouths as they stand. Children are running around, and friends are grouped off in clusters. We find a shady spot under a large tree. He reaches to take one of my fries and I move the basket. “Get your own.”

  “We’re sharing.”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “I’ll take five in case you’re not.” He dips his hand in the basket.

  “That’s more than five.”

  He takes one more. “Number nine.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  Caleb leans back against the tree and finishes off the fries in his hand. “What
was going on in your head back there? You looked ready to explode. You freaked out.”

  I shrug. “Sometimes the noise and the situation get to me. I lose control. I try to hold myself together. Does that ever happen to you?”

  “All the time.” He takes another fry and a sip of his lemonade. “I owe you an apology about Sara. I had no idea she would be here and for what it’s worth, she kissed me out of nowhere. I have no excuse. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  My heart crashes. “Are you reconsidering your decision to break up with her?”

  “No, not at all.” He looks at ease and boyish. “What about you? Do you ever want to get serious with someone?”

  “Are you making yourself available to me?”

  He laughs. “No.”

  “That’s okay, but I do want to kiss you again. If we could do that for the next two years, I’ll be better prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?” His eyebrows raise. “Why the strict timeline, Cole?”

  “My age will fall behind the national average for tying the knot. I’ll be lumped in the same pool of other people who have missed their prime to start a family. Biologically, the female body begins to break down. The number of eggs in my ovaries will decline.” My tone is dire as I look at him and wonder why he’s not taking this seriously. “You’re laughing when you should be concerned. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-three.”

  “You’ve already missed your prime.”

  “What if I don’t want to get married?”

  The answer is unexpected. I stare at him. “Why wouldn’t you want to get married? Are you going to go through life with no one but yourself? Don’t you think you’ll get sick of looking at only yourself in the mirror?”

  “I like my life.” He holds out the lemonade to me. “And I like looking at myself in the mirror.”

  I take the drink and get a sip. “For now, maybe, but that’s not a good answer.”

  “What if I told you I had been engaged before?”

  My jaw drops. “I would believe you. Who is she?”

  “Someone not in my life anymore.” His shoulder bumps mine. “You’re not sizing me up against some marriage check list, are you?”